


Ren Riding Hood

by JadedWarrior



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fairy tale retelling, Halloween, Light and Dark Magicks, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Samhain, Wolves, athame, magick, mention of blood (from injury), mention of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedWarrior/pseuds/JadedWarrior
Summary: Far from Anakin’s cottage, he ripped Ben Solo’s mask off his own face. The wolf watched him with ice blue eyes, a threat and a grim promise.Inspired by Reylo Microfic Prompt: HexHe knelt, his body weakened. Useless.“I feel it, Master. The pull to the light. The burn.” Yellow eyes watched him from the dark.”I think she put a hex on me.”The answer was, as always, a soft hiss of sound. “Then you know what you need to do.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102
Collections: Reylo Readers & Writers - The Spooktacular Collection





	Ren Riding Hood

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt for the Spooktacular collection was Masks, and when I saw the “hex” prompt on ReyloMicrofics, I knew I had a story: A twist on the tale of Red Riding Hood.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo for the Beta!

**_Now_ **

He knelt, his body weakened. Useless.

“I feel it, Master. The pull to the light. The burn.”  
Yellow eyes watched him from the dark.  
”I think she put a hex on me.”

The answer was, as always, a soft hiss of sound. “Then you know what you need to do.”

**_Samhain. One Year Ago._ **

He used the mask that once had been Ben Solo. Same features but smooth, unbroken, no crimson runes marring his skin. Same eyes, but dull, without fire. Same mouth but without the foul taste the darkness always left.

He didn’t often use Ben Solo, preferring the masks of others. Greed, Pride, Power, the last one the cause ofhis grandfather’s “fall”.

Regardless of temptation, regardless of the mask, the call to turn bearers of Light remained the same, if only for the Dark’s survival.

This time, he chose Ben Solo for the one who caught his eye seemed to be the type to ignore Power but be drawn to Beauty. A pretty one, with a sweet face and a smile that lit up the night.

She had a brightness to her, a ray of hope that all but pulsed out of her skin, her power clean and pure as sunlight. His draw to her had been inconsequential, although he had to chuckle at the irony of tainting Sunshine with the Dark.

When he approached her, the mask on his face sweet and fumbling and somewhat shy, she granted him one of those smiles. No fear, no suspicion. Perhaps the light shone bright in her, but she must’ve been too naive to see through the blunting glamour of the mask.

She had been blind to him, just like the others here. No one had noticed their phones restarting, or the tiny garlands of lights shorting and going dark above his head. Then again, his power was replenished from the source itself.

Samhain. A perfect time for a Light bearer to fall.

To ensure privacy, he gently led her outside the barn that’s been converted into an All Hollows Home Depot paradise.

“Where are we going?” she laughed in that delightful sound and he found himself hoping she would see him, maybe give him that laugh even while knowing his true face.

“I’m thinking somewhere quiet,” he murmured, and lifted their entertwined hands to press a kiss along her knuckles.

Testing.

Waiting.

Her slight shiver filled him with a longing he chose to ignore.

Rey. She said her name was Rey.

“And what do you intent to do with me once you get me somewhere quiet?” A whisper, a flutter of desire in the dark. A part of him wanted to rip off the mask and show her his true face, the runes, the scars. Everything.

Watch her scream and run from him in terror. Hear her call him a monster even as he’d laugh.Or maybe, maybe, have her lift her arms to him despite of everything he’d done.

“All sorts of nefarious things,” he murmured, and seeing her shiver at the silken threat in his voice, drew her against his side, marveling how well she fit.

Not that it mattered.

“Nefarious,” she murmured and shivered again in a delicious rush of heat. He couldn’t keep himself from touching her, his arm around her waist, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. “Will you turn into a monster?”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, using the endearment Ben Solo no doubt would have uttered, “you have no idea.”

He slanted his lips over her smile, a feather light caress. Just enough to taste. She had to be the one to bring him closer, to want to give herself to him, to yearn for more. Maybe he’d give her more. Maybe he’d make her beg, the irony too delicious not to savor, and he hadn’t savored anything in quite some time.

Then... silence. Nothing but her lips, her arms around him... soft and gentle.

Weak.

No, he was no longer weak.

He was the one to break the kiss, despite his own surprising need to keep devouring that tempting mouth. With a sigh, she tilted her head back, wordlessly asking for more.

So he obliged, running his lips over the delicate path where her heart pumped light and magic through her veins. Since he couldn’t forget himself, couldn’t forget his chosen path, he pressed her closer to the erection he didn’t have to harden with the glamour.

He didn’t have to pretend to gasp and jut his hips when she pressed her palm where he throbbed.

“Here?” he murmured against the delicate skin just below her ear, tasting, testing if she would object when he scraped that same spot with his teeth.

A jump.

A shiver.

A part of him wondered if she’d slap him back, or use her magic now that she understood, if she would call the others and purge him of his magick. Not death, but similar enough. As he would do to her if she wouldn’t turn.

Instead she trembled in his arms and arched her neck.

“Did you like that?”

Her answer was to tilt her head, a wordless invitation, with no idea what she offered, what he could take from her.

When he lifted his gaze, those luminous eyes watched him so intently, he wondered if he had miscalculated and she was toying with the Dark.

But no, she reached for him again, her embrace so sweet, so intense, he allowed himself to get lost in her touch, her kiss, her scent of moonflowers.

He knew what needed to be done.

“May I...” Why did his voice shake? “May I touch you?”

She led him past the barn into the field, away from twinkling lights and glowing jack-o-lanterns, away from music and the laughter and the noise.

A part of him wondered how she could see in the moonless night, but then again, this was her place, her territory, and he the trespasser about to taint Light with Darkness. His preternatural senses could make out her glowing skin.

“Here?” But despite the absurdity, he still caged her between his arms, pressed her agains the doorway of the truck they used for hayrides. It’s been a couple of hours since he had laughed and squeezed her hand with every jolt and bump.He probably still had straw in his hair.

“The town’s an hour drive away,”she murmured against his lips, “so unless you can fly us out of here...”

Not for the first time, he wondered how much she understood. But then, he had no other thoughts for her lips found his again and silenced everything but the sound of her heartbeat.

“Ben,” she murmured, and if something in the void that used to be soul welled up at the sound of his old name, that had to be sentiment for the past. With her arms resting on his shoulders, she offered her throat to him again, so sweet, so trusting. He didn’t know when he lifted her up, bracing her against the doorframe of the truck, her skin and eyes and Light glowing in the darkness, her thighs cradling him as he devoured her mouth, whispered delicious filthy promises into her ear, nibbled and sucked bruises onto her neck.

“Hold on to me.”

Thank the stars she wore a dress and he flicked a gaze above to catch her expression as he stripped her leggings off and with her thighs on his shoulders, tasted.

Delicious.

Golden honey.

He’d never tasted anything so sweet, her moans of ecstasy like music in his ears, an ache deep in his cock. He told himself her pleasure made things easier and mapped out line, every crevice, carefully cataloguing what made her shudder, what made her gasp and moan.

The harder her orgasm, the easier to taint her.

Ben Solo’s voice screamed in his head.

The Dark took what it wanted and he wanted to taste her. Wanted her to moan. Wanted her to thread her fingers in his hair, direct his mouth where she needed him, just so he could tease her and flick his tongue just there, then not. He wanted to hear that sweet voice pleading for him not to stop when he circled her clit, when he sucked that swelling knot of bliss into his mouth. He lapped up her slick, darted his tongue into her slick passage, reveled in the way she said his name.

Well... not his name.

Ben Solo’s name, but that didn’t matter, did it? What mattered was the taste of her, her trembling in the cool air, her orgasm crashing over him in a shimmering wave of gold. And as her thighs tightened around his head, her hands clutching his hair, he held her fragile frame in his hands and reveled. And nearly forgotten who he was.

“Stars. Stars! Ben!”

He wanted her chant his name, and it was the memory, the reminder of his name that got him back into present. With that supple ass cupped in his hands, he let the power surge beyond the mask, and as she gasped, completely open for him, taking more, she took in Darkness.

He held her close as she came down. What was the harm when the first step was already done? What was the harm in kissing her, so soft and sweet on that gorgeous mouth?

“What’s this?”

Did she gasp when his fingers brushed over her biceps, over what felt like a wrap made of leather?

“A bracelet. Family tradition.”

Lies, but again, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming.

“What about you?” Such sweet sweet tone.

“Next time,” Ben Solo answered before he could complete what needed to be done.

Her lips curved against his. “And will there be a next time?”

He bit that tender earlobe. “I hope.”

If he felt like the lowest of the low when she stood on her own two feet and frowned, rubbing a hand at the base of her spine, he certainly didn’t let on. Didn’t let on that he once felt that same burn, the Dark marking her sweet skin, the rune, like his, that would turn crimson.

“Rey? Are you out here?”

She dropped her forehead on his shoulder. “Never ends,” she murmured. “I’ll be right there Finn!” she called toward the Barn, her voice both strong and breathy. Those luminous eyes searched his, and for a moment, he thought she saw right through the mask, straight to the darkness where his soul once mattered.

“Will I see you again?” Bold, with a hint of sweetness.

“I would like that,” he murmured, and because it felt natural, he cupped her cheek, brushing her thumb over her her lips.

“You live around Chandrilla?”

“No.” He couldn’t help but nibble on her neck, his palm over her spine helping to sooth the spreading burn. “My grandfather built a cottage in the woods. I stay there when I’m in town.”

“Rey!”

“I need to go,” she murmured, and—was that regret that flashed over her face?—she trailed her fingertips over his face, right where the runes would bisect his cheek if he didn’t have the mask on. “I run Skywalker’s Herbs ‘n Books. Say hello next time you’re in town?”

“Absolutely.” Irony certainly could be a bitch.

And maybe it was foolish. Certainly careless to accept a gift, one that could hold such power. But when she smiled and pressed a moonflower into his bare hand, he took what she had offered and pressed one last kiss on her mouth.

***

Eyes watched him in the dark.

Perhaps he hadn’t been as clever as he though. Power as great as his always would draw attention. Somebody must’ve seen him, the real him, and perhaps understood enough to find the girl before his Darkness spread.

His mask still on, he walked among the trees, away from lights and decorations. At least in that, his enemy and him stayed in accord—the war between the Powers had to be fought in the shadows.

Ice cold eyes followed him as he took the long path to the cottage.

Deeper into the trees, the presence stayed silent as he moved through shadows, the autumn air clean and crisp. The canopy of trees concealed the sky, and perhaps it was foolish to keep the pretense of ignorance on the chance the creature thought he was nothing but a human.

But the mask, so good at keeping him hidden, also blunted his power, and if the creature chose to attack him now, he would be vulnerable without the protection of the Dark.

He’d sworn he would never again be at the mercy of his own weakness.

Far from Anakin’s cottage, amongst the trees and fallen leaves, he ripped Ben Solo’s mask off. Runes cut into his face, his power a crimson cloak swirling over his shoulders. His hand, the one still clutching the moonflower Rey gave him, burned under his leather glove.

The wolf watched him with ice blue eyes, a threat and a grim promise.

**_Samhain. Now._ **

“I fear it. The Dark.”

The crimson power called to her, a velvet voice seducing her with promises of heated pleasure and unmeasured strength. If she joined the Dark, if she joined him, she’d never be alone again.

Her mentor, the one who helped her after Luke left her with nothing bu a thirst for vengeance, watched her with tired eyes.

“It’s not the dark you fear.”

“It’s been a year today. And yet—“

He hadn’t fucked her. He hadn’t brought to completion the act he started last Samhain, the act that would’ve tainted her with more power she could ever carry.

Enough power to finally destroy him and his Master Snoke.

If Maz knew of her plan, the full extent of what she’d done, what she was willing to do for vengeance, she certainly didn’t seem bothered. Unlike Luke, who was afraid to even consider The Light blurring with the Dark, all in one body. A balance of sorts.

“I fear nothing.”

“You must admit your fear, even if only to yourself.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been warm before his touch. Before last year, the power roiling through her had been pure and cold, righteous and unforgiving. Now, from the first time and during their weekly encounters where they both brought each other to pleasure if not the final act, she’d been warm. And even thought they still hadn’t laid skin to skin, she’d been... content.

Was that what Darkness felt like?

Despite knowing this had been an act, she was a foolish woman who still clung to him, inhaling his scent, craved his arms around her, both in pleasure and laughter and comfort. And maybe she was a fool to think he clung to her as well, although most likely, it was to push more runes into her back, as if she were too blind to notice.

“I need to end this, Maz. Tonight.”

“Child,” her mentor sighed. “Don’t confuse your emotions with your destiny.”

“I hated when Luke talked in riddles.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” And Maz laughed, her features ancient, her eyes bright. “You can choose the walk the same path you’ve walked before. Or you can choose to trust your feelings.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

But Maz didn’t elaborate and there was no more time for riddles as the night fell.

Same forest. Same clearing just beyond the trees. Same field with the hay and corn and lit up barn, the scarecrows and decorations. With power pulsing inside her—her Light wrapping around Darkness she needed to tame—Rey watched from the shadows.

She didn’t notice him, not right away amidst the celebration. But when he finally slipped out, angry no doubt for being unable to find his play thing, she simply padded after him.

No moon again, but she didn’t need the light to see him, his power a red cloak around his massive frame.

He no longer wore the mask, and she couldn’t help but admire his true face, his features honed with Dark and beautiful.

The line of runes flamed red against pale skin, cutting down his cheek, his jaw, into his shoulder. She couldn’t see the runes when they were together, but sometimes, when she had him pulsing in her mouth, he couldn’t quite keep his concentration and she had caught a glimpse. The runes, the scars made him a monster.

And somehow, all that more beautiful.

Which was exactly why she needed things to end tonight.

Silent, freezing, she followed in his wake, the flecks of Light she always tried to push into his skin once again purged from him by his master.

Cold, aching for the heat of him,she padded over the dry pine needles on ground when—

“Did you hurt her?”

Calm voice and fury underneath. He stood in front her, that beautifully ruined face setin stone, the lips that kissed her twisted in derision.

“I asked a fucking question.” An athame glowed red in his hand, the blade precise and deadly. Then, “I’ll kill you just the same, but if you hurt her, I’ll make you suffer.”

No idea what he meant, but the intent was clear. She leapt just as he did, ice cold power of Light pulsing against the crimson Darkness. A swipe of her paw cut into his face, the runes bleeding, the stench of his blood foul and full of copper.

His shirt gaped from the rip, his flesh pale, the runes glowing. For a moment, she wondered if that hurt, if at another time, he’d let her lick him clean.

“That’s all you got?” A swipe of athame brought her back to present. Her growl filled the night, her body strong, her fur standing up in answer to his snarl. Power swirled around them, an ancient battle between Light and Dark, ice blue and molten crimson.

“Did she fight you?” He lunged, would’ve touched her if she hadn’t been quick, not quick enough to understand his question, but the anguish, the bitterness, those she could all but taste. “Did she even have a chance? If she’s hurt I’ll fucking—“

For a moment, she froze, realizing finally, he was talking about... her. That’s when the athame found it’s target, slicing through the fur and skin over her ribs, a cut that could’ve easily have gone between her bones and through her heart as her shriek pierced the air.

“By all the stars,” he whispered and clutched at his own ribs as the steaming athame dripped with ice blue blood. “Is it.. how are you... no...“

He took a step and she backed up, the ache, the pain, clouding her mind, making her growl as he moved closer. And just as he lowered the athame, another figure unfurled from the trees.

“Finish, my boy,” the old man said, his teeth a flash of white. “The Light is most potent when it’s throat it bleeding.”

***

His skin burned where the creature touched him. The wolf, with it’s white mane and ice blue blood, all that untamed animal power... The one he thought had kept Rey from being here, the creature that watched him in the woods every damned week...

The shriek when he finally hurt it. A shriek in the same voice that cried out his name.

“Finish my boy.” Snoke licked his lips as she backed away, hurt but not beaten, ferocious but still bleeding cold sky colored blood.

Same blood that stained his wrist above his glove, the burn strong, stronger then what Snoke had ever took from him.

The athame shook inside his hand.

“Why wait boy? Savoring your victory?”

She snarled, front paws digging into the ground as something—not something, Snoke—propelled her forward.

“I see now. A delightful morsel,” his mentor murmured. “I wondered why you haven’t turned her yet,but that doesn’t matter now. She’ll make us a fine meal.”

Another snarl and she fought against the hold, paws swiping in the air, clawing at the Dark as it exploded her throat.

“Do it, my bow.” His hand, the one that burned, the one that held the athame, lifted. “Fulfill your destiny.”

The scar on his bicep, the one he got when he had been Ben Solo iced his skin.

He gripped the athame tight, watched her eyes as the blade descended. And with the new found Light inside the void of his soul, he pushed the blade into his mentor’s heart.

The scream, the pain, tore him to pieces, the Dark shattering around him like ancient fragile smoke-stained glass. When he opened his eyes again, his cloak lay in a crimson heap of power on the ground, and yet,somewhere within, he found a small spec of Light.

Nothing but dust left of his mentor.

Alone, save for the trail of ice blue blood, he clutched his ribs and followed in her footsteps, hoping against hope, her wound would be light.

When he finally got to his grandfather’s cottage, he found the bloodied wolf unmoving in his bed, her skin golden and bare. Where his skin burned from her claws ripping him, he found an echoing thin trail of ice.

Not possible, he thought, and yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the marks on her biceps, the scar a mirror of his.

A moon bond between Light and Dark couldn’t be real. The marks, manifestations of a bond that can’t exist, had to be superstitions, old wives tales to soothe the weak.

That spec of Light burned through his skin just the runes bled Dark over her arm and shoulder.

**

Warmth suffused her, enveloped her, lapped at her with delicious waves. Soft fabric under her skin, strong arms around her, a hard male body—

Rey shot up and was surprised to find no pain. In the soft glow of the cabin lights—how did he get electricity in here?—she looked down at her naked limbs and at that pale arm that had warmed her.

They’ve never seen each other fully naked.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, or what exactly happened. She didn’t know how she ended up here, bleeding and tired and in pain, but she had known his scent.

Now, as she watched him sleep, her gaze found the mark on his biceps, the same one she’d gotten long before she started on this path, a scar that looked like a hand reaching for the other.

The one Luke told her to keep hidden.

And when she ran a fingertip over that same scar on his arm, dark eyesmet hers.

“I should’ve realized,” he whispered, his voice gravel and sweet. “Go ahead. Just get it over with.” He shifted so that he lay completely on his back. “I won’t fight you.”

Over ribs, the scar looked like it had already healed. The matching one puckered his flesh as well, and Rey yearned to touch.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered, and he complied almost instantly, allowing her to take him in completely unashamed.

Pale skin and dark hair. Brutal features with an aquiline nose and soft soft lips, lips that brought her to pleasure so many times. A wide strong body marked with runes, the same runes that now matched the ones over her spine.

The healed scar on his ribs.

So strong. So monstrous. And yet, so gentle when he held her. So startled, that big frame going stiff with shock when she slanted her lips over his, when she leaned over him, when she straddled his hips.

“Rey.” She wasn’t sure if her name on his lips was meant as a plea or prayer. “If we do this...”

“I know.”

And she aligned their bodies, her soft core over the velvet steel of him.

Pleasure and heat, soft breaths and an unyielding push of entrance. Those dark eyes wouldn’t let her go, holding her a willing captive as she sank down over him, took all of him inside her.

Reveled in the feel of him.

In all her time wielding Light, she never thought the Dark would feel so ... perfect.

Her hands splayed over his chest, his palms gripping her hips, she lifted up to slide over him again, slow at first, torturous. Delicious.

“Please,” he whispered, looking at her as if she were a goddess, his dark locks spread in a halo on the red sheets, his eyes watching her every movement. “Please,” he repeated and Rey shivered, riding this monster that lay before her as a man, feeling him fill her, warm her from the inside.

The coil in her belly tightened, the need inside her an avalancheof sparks. Because she needed more, needed everything, she leaned over to press her lips over his mouth, his hands over her hips working her up and down his cock, seating her onto himself with a staccato speed that left her breathless.

“With me,” she managed as she rode him, “come with me.”

And as he thrust into her and threw his head back, she bit the strong column of his throat and shivered as her climax claimed them both.

Time slowed.

Limbs weighted, air lush with power, she watched red sparkles leave his mouth and mix with her own icy blue, showering both their bodies, the magicks mixed, no longer pure, no longer righteous. Beautiful.

Blissed out, sated, warm, Rey didn’t know how long she trembled. When she lifted her head, she felt rough skin and gentle hands caress her back over the runes.

Under her lips, his mouth curved into a smile.

“I still don’t what I’m supposed to call you,” she murmured, her limbs heavy and sated. Safe.

“Just call me yours,” the man, the monster, murmured and once again, captured her mouth with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my twist on the fairy tale - please let me know what you think!


End file.
